Strangers of Fate
by Eyes like Dawn
Summary: Tess is a Junior at Whiterun highschool in modern day Skyrim. As a Nord adopted by orcs her life is anything but normal, and finding out she's a Dovahkiin doesn't help matters when your a teen survuvial junior high. R&R.
1. Prologue

_A/N: This is mordern day Skyrim to be clear. I couldn't stop thinking about this, so I had to put it up. I have no clue where it is going, but enjoy and Read and Review!_

**~8~8~**

**Prologue**

(_12 years earlier_)

A myriad of blue swirling lights on the top of white police cruisers swirled lazily in the quaint cul-de-sac nested by the cliffs on the edge of the Whiterun city limits. The lights casts ominous glows around the perfectly manicured homes that remained closed and silent as if a crime had not desecrated their perfect little world. However, every once and a while, a curtain would be peeled back and a snooping neighbor would take a quick peep before ducking back to tell their excited families what was transpiring in the little home at the corner of the circular lane.

Kragah Bloodfist grimaced as he stepped out of his sleek white and gold police cruiser. He was a tall muscled orc, in his usual crisp ironed gray and blue uniform of the Empire Whiterun police. Nothing was out of order in his uniform, from the perfectly placed cap to the shine of his boots that glinted little flecks of the street lights.

The orc stretched his stiff bulk from being in the cruiser so long while looking at the tranquil night sky sprawling with glimmering diamond stars. He sipped a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee laced with huge amounts of moon sugar appreciatively as he gazed calmly at the velvet black sky. You could never see many stars in Whiterun city, the glows coming up from the busy town always made it near impossible. Sometimes he wished he could move his clan out to a little place like this, away from the noise and troubles of the bustling metropolis.

The slam of a door, made the orc jerk around a hand going instinctively for his expertly cared for sword. A wreath was moving slowly on a door telling the tale of a one to curious neighbor taking a closer peek than sticking a nose through their drapes.

Shrugging his nerves away the Orsimer grunted once, disdainfully before draining the rest of his coffee and placing the warm cup on the side walk as he made his way to a concrete path that was lined with pink and blue daffodils.

"Nosey busybodies." He grumbled about the neighbors while nearing the bright yellow taped door of the house under investigation.

A few more police, one Nord, one Khajit were standing anxiously by the door, their fingers rapping against the hilts of their blades as Kragah approached; their uniforms a tad crumpled, their forehead dabbed with sticky slick sweat.

"Captain." They both uttered simultaneously offering quick salutes.

Kragah nodded officiously to the pair. "Gentlemen." He replied before ducking under the bright police tape.

His sharp eyes instantly assessed the situation of the home. The oaken door had been kicked in nearly off its hinges barely hanging by the top, the black stains of a boot coated with mud still imprinted on the door. Those same black muddy prints were traipsing through the wood floor leading in a slew of direction but an ominous pair that was sloshed up a set of carpeted stairs seemed to stand out. From the stairs the prints began to smear and mingle with bright streaks of crimson. Kragah followed the path intently as more pools of blood began to appear, blotching the gaily wallpapered walls and plush carpeted floor.

The trail ended at the back of the second floor, leading to a bed room, a lamp on the floor, its shade gone providing an eerie light to the scene. The orcs grimace deepened as he marched into the room. Two Nords a male and female both with long golden tresses lay face down on the master bedroom floor still in their pajamas.

Thick puddles of blood welled under them, the male still holding a long bronzed war sword in his death grip. Kragah could still see the leather sheath half out from under the bed where the Nord had pulled out his blade. The orc knelt beside the murdered bodies almost reverently as he inspected them with out touching the pale bloody corpses. They had both been stabbed multiple times to the chest and neck almost severing their heads. Offering a slight prayer to his patron Daedra he shook his head pityingly.

"Any idea what happened here?" He asked the two officers who had trailed behind him dutifully.

"Forsworn attack gone wrong, captain." The Khajit informed him. His accent was still thick as when he had probably come to Skyrim but it wasn't too difficult to understand. He still had his pen and pad out, fingering them nervously now in the presence of the two bodies. "A man walking his dog claimed to see a few of the fiends take off into the mountains. They took all the valuables they could lay finger to. The Nords probably put up a fight."

Kragah grunted as he raised tiredly, his back pounding in a dull ache. "You're probably right, though Forsworn rarely prey this far out. That damned gang usually heists the small counties, or stays in the city." His voice was laced with dubiousness however as he began his intent scan of the master bed room.

The master bed was a mess, the blanket half dropping on the floor, items smashed and valuables taken in a rush. On a small night stand that had been jerked open and thoroughly rummaged through, a silver picture frame lay faced down. The orc picked it up gently, turning it to see the man and the woman, smiling, their blue eyes twinkling merrily. In the middle a small girl held both their hand grinning happily alongside her parents.

A knot formed the Kragah's gut with a sharp pain as if he had been punched.

"They had a child." He growled as if accusing the pair of officers for forgetting to mention such facts. He had five children of his own, one for every wife he had.

Behind him he could hear the Nord officer mumble a low curse and the Khajit to stutter nervously. "Sorry captain, in all the excitement it slipped our-."

"That is no excuse!" He snarled to the Khajit as he turned on his heel. His black eyes narrowed and looked as if the Daedra himself possessed him as he marched face to face to the wary Khajit. "A child lost her parents this night, and no one has the mind to remember her?"

The Khajit stuttered, his mouth moving but no words escaping. He seemed at a loss, frightened. Reigning in his temper Kragah placed a hand on the feline shoulder in understanding; he sounded a trifle less intimidating. "You're shaken up by this, probably first time am I right?"

The Khajit nodded dumbly, licking his lips nervously.

Sighing the orc nodded. "Finish up here, then head to a tavern and order some strong mead. Work off the nerves, find a woman, play some cards, you'll get used to stuff like this now in the Imperial police force."

"Thank you, captain." The feline stammered, before offering a wavering salute. "The child is in her bed room waiting for social services to pick her up. She'll probably be headed to Riften orphanage by tomorrow morning."

Uttering quick thanks and ordering the Nord officer to make another thorough investigation of the room, the orc stomped out of the grizzly scene to come to another room where pictures of butterflies were colored on the door.

Taking a deep breath he stepped inside bracing for the shrieking wails that always came. A small Nord girl was sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet kicking back and forth rhythmically, her arms clutching a plush Saber cat toy so hard she might have squeezed the stuffing out. A blanket was wrapped around her, with a female Redguard officer kneeling by her side speaking in hushed comforting tones.

The captain coughed awkwardly making the two look up to him. With a slight jerk of his head to the door in a silent command to the Redguard who stood up and walked towards him. She sighed before handing him a slip of yellow pad paper, her mouth etched in a sorrowful frown. "Her name is Tess." She whispered then headed away leaving girl and orc alone.

She couldn't have been more than four, five at the most, but her eyes were alert and in full awareness, not like some he had seen who kept asking and crying for their parents, not comprehending they had gone from Skyrim. Kragah strode over cautiously to the girl with tear stains brooked down her face. He sat on the bed next to her, running a hand over his bald head.

With a sigh he hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he looked at the pink carpeted floor. "Your parents are dead, Tess." He stated simply. "Do you understand this?"

The young girl sniffed once before running the back of her hand across her red nose then nodded.

"Did you see who did this deed?" Kragah asked mildly.

She blinked twice holding back more tears then swallowed hard. "They came into my room, and saw me. Then they turned away. I heard mama scream then papa yell then they ran away."

The orcs brows furrowed in confusion, they had seen her? He had assumed she might have hid saving her from the massacre, but the way she told it, it was as if she had been right in bed watching as they burst in. Alarm bells went up, that wasn't how Forsworn worked, they were ruthless; not even children were spared their barbarity.

"What did they look like?" He inquired arching his thick brow.

She tiny girl held her hands out wide. "Wide like daddy, and tall like him to."

That made no sense either, Forsworn weren't known to be broad or tall, but thin and wiry like rats so they could slink away back into their dens. As he was pondering the new evidence, he suddenly felt tiny fist clutch on to his uniform, he could feel wet tears dampening the dark blue fabric. "You won't let them hurt me, mister orc, will you?" She whimpered.

For a no nonsense orc captain who had seen things that would make a stomach hurl a hundred times over, the cries of the tiny Nord pierced his heart. Awkwardly he patted her shoulder like he would do an officer who was in shock, his wives were better at things like this than he. "Not while I'm around." He promised. "The bad men won't hurt you."

"You won't let the people take me to a new city will you?" She asked even more fearful than before. Kragah's heart sank into a deep pit, he wanted to tell her that he had no choice in the matter, that she might enjoy her new life in the overcrowded orphanage where all misbegotten children of Skyrim were dumped, leaving the only home she had ever known, but he found he could not.

It wasn't like this was his first time dealing with children newly orphaned; he had gone through the motions so many times he could probably do it in his sleep. He could probably recite the form from memory. Yet she, Tess, was different, she was strong even afraid, a saddened heart but masking it. By some press upon his soul, he found that he could not allow this child to be stowed away to the Riften orphanage until 18 when they were thrown out into the hard wide world.

~8~8~

In the bustling city of Whiterun the small Night stead apartment complex stirred with the Bloodfist clan family. It was small only because Kragah Bloodfist had only taken five wives presently. Most apartment complexes were vast orc homes that housed many wives and children.

The five wives sat in a brightly lit kitchen of the main apartment, the swinging light overhead buzzing as small moths smacked into it obliviously making small annoying clinking noises. They always congregated here when Kragah was on a nightshift, worry running through their minds their steaming mugs of hot coffee passing numbly one after another as they made whispering small talk to combat the fear. Was he dead by some thieves' dagger or injured by some spell lying in a gutter helpless?

The front door buzzed open then slammed shut with a loud bang making all the wives heads jerk up and stifle cries of relief. Kragah stomped into the kitchen looking determined and tired as he slipped off his heavy uniform jacket throwing it on an empty chair. The five could not have been anymore surprised to see him carrying a sleeping Nord girl in his arms; her head resting on his shoulder drool dribbling out her mouth.

"Husband, what is that?" His first wife, Trulka, pointed to the girl as if she had never seen a Nord in her life.

Kragah sighed as he slid down into a chair exhausted. He rubbed his sweaty neck with his free hand nervously. After seven cups of coffee at the precinct, and a fervent prayer to his Daedra deity, he still was barely finding enough courage to break it to his auspiciously glaring wives. "After the paper work goes through the new edition to our family…"


	2. Welcome to Whiterun High

The lunch bells shrill ringing blared throughout the Whiterun high school just as Tess slammed her locker shut. She was a touch taller than most Nord girls, her hair a dirty blonde that she kept in a loose pony tail with a black scrunchie. Her eyes were a bright cobalt blue hue that seemed cold yet serene like a frigid night in the Windhelm valley. She wore her usual black boots, blue jeans that were fringing at the bottom and plain white shirt. Orcs never put much to fashion, simple practicality was their motto.

A baggy black hand-me-down jacket was draped over her arm as she made her way through the cold halls. Most of her clothes were hand-me-downs from her older sisters in the Bloodfist family. Almost all of it was old and out of date, but Tess rarely cared, she was just glad she had sisters to get hand me downs from instead of donated clothes from the horrible orphanage she could have gone to.

She might have looked like a regular Nord girl but everyone knew her past, they knew the bus dropped her off at a stop that led to the orc apartment complex, they knew her adoptive _orc_ father was a veteran beat captain for Whiterun Imperial police. In a word, they knew she was that one horrid phrase any teen dreaded to hear spoken especially in the cruel shark infested waters of Whiterun high-different.

The corridors of the school thronged with students from all over Tamreil: Argonians, Dunmer, Khajit, Redguard, and the list went on; you name it, they had at least one crammed away in some mind numbing class. Tess had often compared the school to the Imperial zoo, but at least the Imperial zoo didn't put the Saber cats with the goats unlike the school who let the everything reign free so long as anyone didn't end up stabbed and hid in a locker.

Tess fought her way through the river of people who ebbed and flowed like a raging river, their voices deafening roars as so many spoke in a myriad of different languages that swirled around her constantly. Even though she spoke fluent Nord, orcish, and had been praised in her foreign language class of Dunmer as being the best one to grasp the difficult speech, Tess has always hated learning a new language.

She shoved and pushed her way to a nearby locker that had a Breton girl with short brown hair standing in front of it. Tess smiled as neared the girl who stuffed books in her crowded pink and blue decorated locker while also trying to precariously keep the items bursting out of the small steel compartment from falling to the floor.

"Hurry up, Bree." Tess sighed as she knelt to pick up the flurry of fallen colorful fliers and papers that had drifted from the crowded locker. "There's pizza in the cafeteria today. It's probably half gone even now!"

"Hark let us kneel and beseech the deities above to sew compassion for two mortals fair so that they find us worthy to bless with greasy slices of cheesy goodness that will fill are starving bellies!" Bree exclaimed dramatically while a hand went to her forehead and her eyes rolled back pretending to swoon from starvation.

The Nord shook her head, biting her bottom lip to hold back ripples of laughter. Bree was her best friend, short in stature but big in her words. The Breton was always dressed strangely in flowing colorful standout clothes that looked strange in dull gray and white Skyrim, and was never seen without some sort of scarf wrapped around her neck to make her look, as she claimed, professional.

She was striving hard to become a bard, her dream for as long as Tess had known her. Bree had all the old black and white movies played by the most famous bards and idolized them all. More than once the two had shared an old movie marathon stuffing their faces with popcorn and repeating all the lines by heart.

"You've been reading about historic bards to much, Bree, you're talking so strange I don't even understand some of the words." She commented, before looking down at the papers in her hand.

Her gut tightened at the sight of pamphlets with the bright blue letters BU Bards University stamped on the front. Pictures of students sitting in circles on pristinely manicured lawns with Lyres and tambourines or crowded in choir rooms and in film labs all with little descriptions of the knowledge and experience would be appliers would gain if they were accepted. It was another nod to the fact and the problem that often plagued the Nord. Tess had no idea what she'd be doing after High school was over. Her father wanted her to become a cop, but she had never thought that the right career.

Bree sobered quickly as she saw the frown etching the face of her friend; they had been together too long not to understand the faint looks of worry. "Come on, Tess, you know I've had those papers in there forever." She said cheerily. Putting a hand on her friends shoulder she let a small sigh pass her lips. "We all are meant for something, you'll find it soon."

Tess managed a small smile. "Thanks, Bree." She muttered handing the papers back.

Once the locker was closed the two began shoving their way through the thronging teens in hopes to make it to the cafeteria.

"Bree, Tess, wait up!" A nasally voice called from the behind them in the shifting crowd.

The pair smiled at one another then turned to wait for a tall Argonian boy who was awkwardly trying to break through the crowd. Even at a distance the two girls could hear him uttering 'excuse me' to every person he tried to slid around to reach the pair yet only succeeded to get pulled away from them in the process. When he finally managed to reach them his white polo shirt was wrinkled as stained with black ink from a pen that had spurted on his person while trying to manage through the raging sea of teenagers. His slit onyx eyes looked huge behind his thick circular glasses and were always blinking rapidly. Bright slick teal scales covered his body and glimmered in the overhead light. He might have been intimidating if he wasn't so kind and timid.

"Milo what have we told you, you don't say excuse me here, you push people out of your way." Tess explained jokingly.

Milo was a transfer student from his native land where it was said was a place rife with black marshes and gloomy shaded trees. His name was odd for an Argonian, but wasn't really his name. His true name was no hard to pronounce those who knew him opted for the first four letters instead of tangling their tongues with pronunciations and off shoot dialects that sounded more like hissing than a name.

Tess and Bree were the only friends he had made since his parents, both tavern owners, had moved to Skyrim. Although his parents were probably wealthy enough to have him enrolled in private school with the high elves and empire kids from Cyrodil, his parents had no love for the snobbish ways of the wealthy having worked their scaly fingers to the bone to be where they were today.

Smoothing out his shirt, the tall creature snorted once. "Do your people not have manners here, friend Tess?"

"Not in high school they don't." Bree replied for Tess as they fought their way to the double steel doors with the words _cafeteria _painted in an ugly green over the top.

As usual the plain white tiled cafeteria was packed with even louder noise that the halls. Red trays clacked together, students talked and laughed in roaring tones all sitting at wide tables that sat in three long rows of ten. The three friends picked up trays and got in the long line to receive their mid day meal. Pizza of all sorts sat behind the sneeze guard in hot greasy goodness as they had their turn in line. Bree and Tess stacked their trays with cheese pizza that ran off the plate to pool around the edges, while Milo took his time selecting the least touched pizza of all-anchovies.

"Milo, remind me to give you a mint before lunch is over so you don't knock out people with anchovy breath in Alteration class!" Tess laughed as they paid for their lunch and strolled to their usual table.

Theirs was the worst table in the whole crowded place. It all the way at the back left corner of the vast room, a wobbly table with sticky benchs right by the huge plastic trash cans and window with a long thin crack in it that seeped in cold air in the frigid winter and small bugs in the short summers. It was the worst of all in the cafeteria, but no other table would have the freak, the nerd, and the drama queen. They were dreaded like the plague; anyone who was seen with them had grounds to be ostracized and shunned as well in the caste world of Junior High.

"So Tess I just rented Ragnar the Red yesterday and I was thinking we could have another movie marathon this week-end if Milo wanted to-." Bree stopped talking as she yelped in surprise and lurched forward, her lunch flying through the air as she landed in a heap on the sticky floor.

Her fall was met by cruel laughter from the table they had been passing. Svlod the perpetrator was laughing the loudest in his deep bass. He was rugged even if he was a junior, his growth spurt having hit early drawing the attention of more than a few senior girls to his handsome air. There was no awkward stubble on his chin but a neatly trimmed beard as was the style, and piercing gray eyes that danced in a cruelty that would have put a Daedra to shame. He was broad and muscled like many of the Nords strove to be and had more than a few won fights under his belt. He wore a gray shirt that read 'Ulfric for President' in bright red letters and was never seen not totting something that did not support the terrorist Stormcloak's bid for presidency over Skyrim.

"Oh no, has the great star taken a tumble?" He taunted in his thick Nord accent, a finger twirling around some of his beard in mocking worry.

"Stars don't tumble; they soar majestically to their end in a fiery brilliance that awes all who look upon them in their final moments of glory as they pierce the velvet darkness of night and blink into eternities realm." Bree replied in dignified notes. Even though she was still on the sticky glossy floor, she seemed to look down imperially upon the dread creature Svlod.

Tess strove to keep her temper in check as she balled a fist up forcing herself not to tackle the arrogant Nord. She hated Svlod and all he stood for and represented, the arrogant pig headed lout! He was the type who believed Skyrim was meant only for the Nords, a thought that simmered throughout the Stormcloak party.

Tess growled through clenched teeth as she and Milo helped the Breton to her feet. "Come on Bree, lets get going, I hear stupid can be infectious if you stay around it to long." She stated, flashing hateful glares at the table of grinning idiots.

"I've heard the same about orcs." One of Svolds cronies replied with a pig like snort. The gang dutifully laughed at the jibe thrown at Tess making the girl want to attack them all. She hated blind ignorance, and arrogance towards those different.

As the trio walked away from the table of laughing fools, Tess wrapped her arm around her friends shoulder in a comforting hug.

Bree walked with head held high as proud as any Nord showing no hint of pain even though a scrape was oozing a bright crimson on her left arm. "One day when I am a master bard, they'll wish they asked for my autograph instead of seeing how hard they can make me fall." The Breton proclaimed proudly even while the blood on her arm stained her silky blue blouse.

To Tess, Bree was an inspiration; instead of shuffling about with head held down trying to be invisible to scorn and evil eyes Bree walked with grace and confidence with her head held high and a calm reassurance in her emerald eyes as if all of Tamreil bowed to her will. Tess wished she could be so confident rather than just trying to stay unnoticed in the shadows of life.

As they made it to their rickety barely clean, gum pockmarked table Milo led Bree to the bench quietly murmuring a restoration spell on the nasty gash. The pangs in her gut came surging back to Tess as she watched Bree's tanned flesh knit back together neatly under Milo's warm pulsing hand. Even Milo had plans for the future; he had practically been guaranteed an internship at Kynareth hospital after High school and after no doubt being accepted at the mages collegiums. His skill with the healing arts had always been outstanding in restoration class; the best and the brightest that the school had ever seen.

Tess forced back a sigh as she looked at her two friends, they were two diamonds in the rough destined for greatness. In ten years Bree would probably be followed by paparazzi, totally loving every minute of the bright camera flashes and the endless questions that would be construed in gossip magazines and Milo would be walking the cold halls of Kynareth hospital in a white lab jacket overlooking his patients with tender care. By the Daedra's even Svlod would probably end up as some big shot of a lumbering brute in the army with more medals than he could probably count to.

But where would she be? More than likely stuck in a back room smoky office of the Whiterun precinct running police reports and slowly ageing like the stacks of paper piled around her. She could picture herself high strung on black cups of moon sugar heaped coffee with bags under her eyes hacking from to many cigarettes and having a drinking problem in ten years. Grim prospects to say the least.

"Good as new, friend Bree." Milo confirmed with a smile as he finished the simple spell, patting her arm gently with his scaly clawed hand.

The Breton grinned joyously wrapping her arms around the lithe Argonian in a tight hug. "Be exalted brave Argonian from bringing me back from the brink of demise. I saw the glimmering gates of Sovangarde open to hold me in its bosom when you roared your spells to bring me back to the realm of the sun and stars! Praised be your name spoken on the lips of every bard in Skyrim!"

Tess sighed rolling her cobalt eyes as she found another less sticky place to sit handing Bree and extra slice of pizza she had snatched up. "It was a scratch, Bree, Milo didn't bring you back from the 'bosom of Sovangarde'."

"Yeah, friend Bree, it was no trouble." Milo nodded as he bent down to eat his pizza. Even though he was trying to hide it Tess could see a faint bloom of pink under the marsh teal skin of his cheeks.

Bree sighed theatrically as she took a huge bite of the gooey cheese heaped slice chewing furtively. "You two have no imagination!" She cried though it was barely translatable through a muffled mouthful of pizza.

The pair laughed at their dramatic friend, speaking of news from their families and whispering the usual school gossip of who said they liked whom and who had an argument with whoever as a regular day in Whiterun High went on without a hitch.


End file.
